Ashford Drabble Repository
by Beast of the Sea
Summary: A collection of mostly Ashford-family-centric drabbles.
1. Dorkside Chronicles, Pt 1

**Blanket Disclaimer: **CAPCOM owns Resident Evil/Biohazard and all related characters, plots, and settings. I neither even own a copy of a Resident Evil game nor work for CAPCOM, so that's a wash...

Also, blanket dedication to sniiperinthebrain over on Tumblr/Sir Badassington over here. -waves- If you happen to read these, hope you enjoy.

* * *

"_No… I think everyone else is here to serve my experiments!" Alexia declared, and began advancing on the genetically inferior siblings, tittering wildly as she assumed her true form..._

"Brother, what are you doing?"

Twelve-year-old Alfred froze in the middle of pulling the dress over his head. The caged rats substituting for foes squeaked. "I… ah… Back so soon from the labs, Alexia?" he asked, finishing the job as he turned towards her.

She regarded him flatly from the bedroom doorway. "Why orange confetti, brother?"

"Alexia, I _swear_ I can explain, I _do_…"_ I couldn't _actually_ set anything on fire…_


	2. Dorkside Chronicles, Pt 2

"_I can feel Veronica surging through my veins!" Alexia shrieked, doing a backflip and slinging fire at her foes–_

"Ah. A _genetic_ disorder."

Alexander yelped and reflexively covered his nudity, though his flimsy garment of Green Herbs likely sufficed. "Alexia! How did you ever get-"

His daughter, though averting her eyes, managed to aim a contemptuous look at the doorframe. "T-Veronica is derived from _ants_, not plants." With that, she left.

His buzz thoroughly snuffed, Alexander slumped. He couldn't help it; dressing femininely made him feel powerful – closer to Veronica – and –

Wait.

What had she meant by "a _genetic_ disorder"?


	3. Freudian Slip

A paper dropped onto the desk before him, a bright red B+ circled in a corner. He frowned over his shoulder at his sister, who said in a level tone, "A reasonable effort, dear brother, but you must learn to pay more attention when you are working."

"Whatever do you mean by that, Alexia?"

"_Particularly_ when you have other things on your mind." She gestured to his essay. "We have some things to discuss, brother."

"What?"

"Do read it again."

Perplexed, Alfred looked back down at his essay and began to read:

"Ants are my favorite kind of incest…"

_Erk!_


	4. Human Alarm Clock

"A-lex-i-aaaaaa…"

In Alexia's mind, emotions slotted into three categories: pleasurable, uncomfortable, and irritating. At the moment, the warbling fit the latter two.

"Alexia, it's time to wake up…"

She gathered her sheets tighter around herself, mumbling and wriggling. _My pupa should have hatched by now_, she thought deliriously. Her dreams tended to hover around reality for a few minutes after she awoke.

"You know, Alexia, it _has_ been fifteen minutes," chirped the Annoying Warbler; she resisted its attempts to unwrap the covers, but unsuccessfully. "Do come out and face the beautiful d-"

Alfred survived with slight bruising on his windpipe.


	5. Family Resemblance

She created bioweapons and dictated the behavior of an entire base; he played with dolls and practiced shooting his rifle for hours on end. She stayed calm at all times and never engaged in unnecessary chatter; his excitable moods often got the better of him, and he frequently blithered on when he had already said all that needed to be said.

Some would say the only resemblance they bore to each other was physical.

As their ants swarmed over the feebly struggling dragonfly, they turned towards each other, twin affectionate smiles gracing their faces.

Oh, what did peasants know, anyway?


	6. Unsuccessful Confession

"Alexia, ah… How pre_cise_ly… would you go about telling a girl you liked her?"

"Social matters interest me little, brother. However, I believe that simply telling her would be best."

"Well, yes, of course, but… what if, every time you tried, your stomach tied itself into knots?"

"Seek medical attention immediately."

"I didn't mean it _literally!_ I just- I-"

"Of what relevance is this question? No other children reside at this base."

"I- I- Nothing, Alexia! I was just a little curious- nothing more-"

As he dashed off, she shook her head. She had _told_ him to simply tell her.


	7. Orpheus

For his lack of faith, Orpheus was punished, and on the very verge of his triumph.

Alfred was not such a fool; like a good servant, he did not question, and like a pious worshipper, he did not gaze upon the blinding light of miracles for long enough for the eyes of reason to adjust. His queen was with him once more, and only the most vulgar oaf would quibble as to the mean details of such a gift.

The make-up, the dresses, the missing spans of time, the shattered mirrors, the niggling memory of the Antarctic base? Mean details.


	8. Emotions

Alexia had never understood most humans' emotions. Pleasure, annoyance, discomfort: these she understood, but others meant nothing.

Her brother professed his "love" for her, and, stabbed by acute discomfort when she hesitated, she told him she reciprocated; she did not believe it, however, and wondered whether she was even capable of the emotion. Or why, for that matter, she cared.

Now, as she stared out into space and softly stroked her brother's hair, the motion as mindless and meaningless as the rituals of an autistic child, she had her answer, and wished that she had never had cause to learn.


	9. Other Half

Alfred had never been her "other half"; he had always needed her far more than she needed him. Without her, he would be permanently crippled; without him, she would merely be alone.

Needing was not the same as wanting, however. And her lack of weakness did nothing to mitigate, when she had always had a ever-faithful barrier between herself and a barren world populated only by insignificant, incomprehensible people, the pain of loneliness.

But it would not crush her.

_A snowmobile burned; the intruders weakly stirred within, unaware of having offended against a nascent demigod…_

It would crush them instead.


	10. Entertainment

"Brother," said Alexia in a reproving voice. "Don't play with the ants. They are a part of my work."

Alfred looked up from adjusting various sticks and sweets he had dropped into the colony. "But Alexia," he whined, "it's so _entertaining_ to watch them…"

"Be serious, brother," she said, approaching the ant farm. "Entertainment is not the…"

Hours later, their father found them both hunched over the colony, mesmerized by the scurrying little insects.

"Aren't you supposed to be working?" he asked Alexia.

"But Father," said the twins in unison, not looking up, "it is _so_ entertaining to watch them…"


	11. W O B

The banging from the air system had been disturbing the scientists all day. At first, they had dismissed it as malfunctioning machinery, but it had come closer, and stopped just next to the vents; a few swore they had seen eyes staring out at them from between the slats.

"Miss Ashford…" one ventured. "Do we know of any B.O.W.s that might have escaped to the air vents?"

"W.O.B., Wildly Obsessed Brother, actually," the thing behind the vents interjected. "Don't mind me, mind the idiotic guards who wouldn't let me into the labs to see my beloved sister without a permit!"


	12. Uncanny Valley

One baby cried hysterically, its eyes squeezed shut; the other looked around curiously, its wide blue eyes seeming perplexed by its bright new surroundings. Alexander knew, of course, that an infant would have no cognitive abilities to speak of at this point, but he could not shake the impression that it already possessed rudimentary intelligence.

With a shudder, he turned away, hastening to begin taking notes and wipe a superstitious fear from his mind: though reason told him that he had just ensured the salvation of the Ashford family, instinct whispered that he had only truly ensured his own damnation.


	13. Perfect B O W

Surely a B.O.W.'s effectiveness was to be judged by not only the carnage it directly caused, but also that which it indirectly caused?

Surely a scientist was at least indirectly responsible for the devastation caused by his or her creations?

Surely everyone (except for Dr. Marcus's apprentice, whatever-his-name-was – Gherkin?) agreed that Alexia's talent for B.O.W. research and development was unsurpassed?

Therefore, he, Alexander Ashford, was the greatest B.O.W. designer in all of Umbrella, for he had created Alexia.

Just because a being wasn't sloughing off necrotic flesh or wriggling with inexplicable tentacles didn't mean it wasn't a weapon, after all.


	14. A Variety Of Reactions

News of Alexia Ashford's apparent death garnered disparate reactions from various quarters:

The Ashford butler feared for his young master's sanity, for the grief-stricken boy would only moan his late twin's name for hours on end, occasionally interrupting the chant with a meaningless shriek of "Fifteen _years_!";

Spencer, shaking his head, reflected that all three Ashford scientists had done themselves in with T-Virus-related laboratory accidents, and half-wondered if they had misunderstood his request for a 100% fatality rate;

Meanwhile, at the Arklay facility…

"DECK THE _HALLS _WITH BALLS OF _HOL-LY_, TRA-LA-LA-LA-LA, _LA-LA-LA-__**LA**_– 'TIS THE _SEA-SON_ TO BE _JOL-LY_, FA-LA-LA-LA-LA,_ LA-LA-LA-__**LA**_-"


	15. The Witch Is Dead, The Wicked Witch

"Al," Will croaked, looking like a mid-stage T-Virus case, "why do I feel so sick, and who is this woman next to me?"

"That would be your liver communicating its undying hatred for you. And that's Annette. You married her last night."

"I _what_?"

"Do you remember anything about the party?"

After a moment, Will's bloodshot eyes widened in feverish glee. "She's dead? She's really dead?"

Wesker nearly banged his head against the doorframe. "Yes, Alexia is still dead."

* * *

"Don't ask," he said to a bewildered Dr. Marcus as Will shambled into work, manically singing "Ding-Dong, The Witch Is Dead".


	16. Half Of A Soul

"Alexia?" There was no response, but he knew she was listening. "Do you think someone can survive losing half his soul?"

"What novels have you been reading, brother?"

"Alexia, I _am_ serious," said Alfred in a wounded voice. "I did think about it, and I decided that no one could – but I thought to ask you, because you know best. What do you think?"

She was silent, her brow faintly creased in thought; then, she turned to him, her face devoid of expression. "A person could," she said. "But the cause of that loss would not survive for very long."


	17. Test Subjects

One clear, cold truth stood out from the pages and pages of data regarding their childhood development: Alexander Ashford regarded them only as B.O.W.s, not progeny. So much made sense now: Alfred, as the accidental byproduct, was an embarrassing failed prototype to be fudged out of lab data and not presented to Alexander's peers; Alexia, as the successful experiment, was to be paraded around in public, yet all her accomplishments meant nothing for herself – they only added to her creator's glory. Just as Alexander had always treated the twins, just as he always would.

For that, he had to die.


	18. Happy Follower

With superlative intelligence and beauty, his twin sister was surely the perfect being; now that their wretched father was… currently being put to good use for once in his worthless life, she alone would lead, and he would have the honor of following her every command and fulfilling her every wish. Never would he have to suffer the terrifying business of navigating through life on his own, adrift in a confusing, difficult world that his mind just wouldn't understand, no matter how hard he tried: Alexia would do that for him, and for that, he was forever indebted to her.


	19. Through The LookingGlass

A touch of make-up, another adjustment of the wig, and – _there_.

Despite knowing it was mere illusion, Alfred nearly wept: after all these lonely years, he beheld his sister's face once more. As he stared at his reflection, eyes wide, his mind teetered dangerously… it could almost be Alexia, it –

Alexia would never look so overwhelmed, though, and so the face in the mirror smoothed out, its eyes narrowing. "Control yourself, brother," a voice not his own commanded. "Show the dignity proper to an Ashford."

Alfred straightened, closing his eyes in embarrassment, and swept a deep bow. "My apologies, Alexia."


	20. Sacrifice

_And the queen and her high priest, they strapped him to an altar, where, smiling and hand-in-hand, they sacrificed him to dark gods, the very same he had once worshipped… To which he had sold his soul…_

_And as he descended into hell, their mad laughter followed him down– _

"What do you think goes through the infected's minds, Alexia?" Alfred asked, peering over the railing as their father's remains thrashed on the operating table below.

"As their brain cells disintegrate?" Alexia shrugged. "An odd thing to contemplate… but I do not concern myself with the irrelevant. Let us go, brother."


	21. Loneliness

More experiments, more time spent away from him. If Alfred had been the jealous sort, he would have been downright miserable.

Instead, he was merely depressed as he slumped forward on the miniature carousel ride, waiting for Alexia to get back from her latest experiments. He knew, naturally, that Alexia's work was of the utmost importance, and he would comprehend its importance even better were he more intelligent. For now, he had to have faith, so she could perfect T-Veronica and take her rightful place as the world's queen – then, he'd laugh at himself for his prior childish impatience.

Still…


	22. Do You Believe In Soulmates?

"Alexia, do you believe in soulmates?" She frowned at her brother, and he clarified, "That is to say, that for every person in the world, there's another person created to be their perfect match, who will understand and complement them better than anyone else ever-"

She continued to stare at him, and his earnest expression faded; he slumped and looked away, muttering something to himself, and walked off. Turning back to her notes, she shook her head, wondering where he had gotten such a bizarre idea. Did she believe in soulmates?

What an absurd question.

Not everyone had a twin.


End file.
